A Different Perspective
I read this from a bumper sticker as I was pulling off the parking lot after church last Sunday:
We are all spiritual beings having a physical experience.
Cool, huh?
singing...... "I'd like to buy the world a home and furnish it with love, grow apple trees and honey bees, and snow white turtle doves. I'd like to teach the world to sing in perfect harmony, I'd like to buy the world a Coke and keep it company. "
I read this from a bumper sticker as I was pulling off the parking lot after church last Sunday:
We are all spiritual beings having a physical experience.
Cool, huh?
Eureka! But I’m not running out to the streets of Syracuse naked. I found it at last!
I thought I had lost my California ID card (not the driver’s license) when I had my right ear cartilage pierced (the same spot that closed up) late last year. I went through the whole painful process of reporting it to the concerned agencies fearing that someone else might use it, and fearing the worst: harm my credit; or get my identity entangled in some gruesome murder case. Eventually, I got used to the idea that somewhere out there, someone (hopefully a hot-looking minor) might use my ID only to buy some liquor (quite responsibly if it was possible!) and that’s it.
Can you keep a secret? I mourned for that ID because I ADORED my photo there. I was maybe 25 flipping pounds lighter then, my long hair was brushed more than once that day, and I was wearing a good amount of war paint on my face…a definite “hot girlfriend” version of me. The Driver’s ID that was left with me spoke of hideousness and nothing else. It was taken when I didn’t know the photo was going to be taken. I had a house-shirt on, I didn’t brush my hair twice that day (LOL), and I don’t think I took a shower that day *joke*. And oh yes, I was 25 flipping pounds heavier, and I squeezed the shot in between washing dishes and doing laundry…a definite “horrendous-looking wife” version of me! I remember praying for some nice soul to mail that beautiful version of me back to my address but nothing ever came. Then I remember blaming people for keeping it in light of their malevolent motives. And of course, I also accused the finder for keeping it just because I looked really “hot” there *dream on*.
Hubby and I went clubbing last weekend (Plug: Bruno’s in SF) and I took one of my tiny black “clubbing” purses. I was putting my Driver’s license in the inner pocket when I felt another ID card in there. It’s my long lost ID!!! I still don’t have any recollection of how it ended up there. Maybe I took it to Blue Light (another favorite) one time. But I do remember showing that ID to the Piercing Pagoda several months after that. I’m positive! And I remember coming home without it. How on earth it happened remains a mystery to me.
But I’m so happy and relieved that I have my “hot girlfriend” version in my wallet once more. Now, if I can only go back to looking the part.
Our office is supposed to be a scent-free environment though I’d sneak in a spritz or two of the faintest smelling body spray whenever I wake up too late to wash my hair in the morning (me filthy thing!) I hope I don’t get written up for it one day. And I think someone’s doing the same thing! Once in a while, I would catch strong whiffs of pomade in my cubicle. Old man’s pomade—the scent that you’ll get if you mix coconut oil with old dried up garden soil. I’ve been secretly accusing someone for it. He’s very nice, funny and very smart by the way, but just the quintessence of the pomade-slathering league. But lo and behold, this place is reeking of that odor today and he’s not even here! Hence, I’m moving on to Victim…er…Suspect #2: the co-worker in the cubicle next to mine. There is nothing conclusive yet but if I’m right this time, then I therefore conclude that not all women who come to work clutching an original Gucci purse have good taste in the fragrance department. (If my co-workers can read my posts, I will soooo get in trouble).
I digress.
Suspect #2 got in trouble with The Manager lately. If my eavesdropping data is accurate (which most often isn’t especially when relying on audible data---in other words, I’m biologically deaf aside from having Attention Deficit), she has been lagging on some important tasks involving BIG accounts. Aside from that, I heard from Suspect #3 (she doesn’t stink, I just don’t know how to refer to her---but since she works on the cubicle across mine, she’s not fully acquitted just yet) that Suspect #2 got into an argument with The Manager while she was being reprimanded for not doing her job. It allegedly graduated into a yelling match with Suspect #2 coming out of it claiming that she felt “harassed”. Suspect #3 and Suspect #4 (I don’t think this one should even be a suspect at all) asked if I heard it myself because they only learned about it from the grapevine; #3 was off sick that day, and #4 was on vacation. I could swear I didn’t hear any yelling at all so they figured it must have happened on my lunch break. But I never leave on lunch breaks! I eat my lunch in my cube while I write blogs like this one! I must have been in a different “realm” that time…
But it could be true. I hate taking sides but I believe that the manager had a point. I hear her yakking on the phone with friends for long periods of paid time. So seriously? It only proves that how we behave dictates how others will treat us. Our attitudes and behaviors in the different aspects of our lives court how we will be treated back. Give out sh*t, and you’ll get some sh*t back. Love and you will be loved back. Maybe not in all instances, but it improves your chances. But this shouldn’t even be the main goal. Be nice, just to make the world a better place. Love, just because.
And don’t wear stinky pomade.
I’m drinking pepsi today.
(The rest of this post will have nothing to do with drinking Pepsi).
Hubby and I went to Reno last weekend for his softball tournament. A really welcome respite from it all. But it was so darn hot out on the field last Saturday, I practically melted over my flipflops while I screamed and cheered and nurtured a deep-seated anger for sticky sunblock. I wasn’t being little miss quirky, in fact, I had loathed anything that was smelly, waterproof, sticky or greasy 
(especially that altogether in one formula) on my skin eversince I was a kid. The scent of Coppertone would always send me running for my life and nothing has changed thus far. But I guess, you can’t hate what protects you.
Enough about sunblock.
The rest of the weekend went really great. Had two buffets in a row (Silver Legacy on Saturday night, Atlantis for Sunday’s lunch---crab feast!!!)… in between was a series of relentless unproductive “alcohol-infused” affairs with the slot machines at The Nugget 
where we stayed for two nights and at Harrah’s downtown. Man, these things guzzle up bucks like crazy! I’m not really the gambling kind. I would rather see my money vanish on good margarita…or food…
Yeah right, food… I just impulse-bought a small princesscut diamond pendant in one of the pawnshops in downtown Reno. I wasn’t intending to buy it but we made an offer for a 
hundred bucks and the guy agreed. I figured, since I could have been seeing that same amount chip away in a thousand little pieces while betting on the merciless Wheel of Fortune machine, I might as well turn my remaining gambling allowance into a girl’s bestfriend, and for 1/4 the price of the real value!
So in principle, “we” sort of recovered what we lost and it’s 
on my neck right now (not to mention the rainbow-colored stuffed butterfly, the anemic monkey and the powder blue teddy bear from Circus Circus). I’m not really materialistic. I liked the diamond because it was cute (and cheap), not because it’s a status symbol.
Plus, I think it’s a reasonable reward for putting up with sunblock. Yes, I hate it that bad.
America was lighting her fireworks when I arrived the first time and I always choose to look at it as a glorious personal welcome. Since then, Fourth of July always had a different meaning for me; every firework sent up in the air is a celebration of my new life. I’m not a different person, just an evolving one. And I’m only in a different place but my heart is always where it’s supposed to be. It rests in the people whose hearts I also carry in me.
I have a "brave" little secret...I maintain another blogsite with pretty much the same posts at Bravenet. And guess what! I won the Journal of the Week Award (click it while I'm still on the Main page!!!) Here's my site: Coffee, Anyone? and I'm happy it's finally getting a lot of hits. I was so surprised that I won when I didn't even enter the contest.
I want to celebrate but I can't party just yet. I'm waiting to "win" in a more important area of my life right now. Dear God, please don't let my Daddy get ill. At least let me win this one too.
I saw it the instant I came out the front door of my workplace. There is a small parking lot in front of our building adjacent to a 25 miles/hr road. It was moving about lazily in the middle of the road in slow turkey waddle. What was it doing there, I mused. A wild one, perhaps. 
Since I work close to the ocean, I get my regular dose of ducks tapping on our glass doors, seagulls crying in the distance…hawks (hawks?) hovering up above. It was a turkey alright, even if my close encounters with a whole turkey are limited so far to #1) the zoo when I was 5 years old #2) Thanksgiving dinners – the turkey sandwiches and ground turkey I use a lot in lieu of beef don’t count. Maybe it’s just my imagination, this one almost had a personality. "He/She/It" almost had a name. ALMOST HAD.
I went straight to my car, fumbled for my phone in my purse (shucks, I thought I left it again) and then pulled right off the lot and unto the road. To my shock, when I was almost at that part where the turkey was, I saw instead some bloody turkey pieces...mashed and unidentifiable turkey parts. I’ll spare you the other gory details. It bothered me like hell, like a heavy dark cloud was cast upon me and followed me. At home, hubby gave a loud “What? Who did what!?! What the f! What an irresponsible son of a b! What was he thinking?” – it could make tree-huggers and animal rights activitists grimly jealous.
Poor turkey. One moment he was lounging about oblivious to his impending demise, 5 minutes elapse and he's a random roadkill. It seemed more like a gruesome murder to me, if there is a difference at all. Did he have parents? Did he have a spouse? Did he have kids? Uhm...Grandkids? Hahahaha. Is there turkey heaven? or turkey hell? LOL. Is someone gonna miss him? What was he doing there? What was he thinking? Did he have dreams? Did he have goals? Did he have a list of things to achieve before he dies? A turkey's brain is about the size of a walnut and it is said that is has fewer brain cells than a cockroach. So the tragedy he met probably didn’t mean much. They are somehow predestined to be on someone's dinner plate anyway (sorry, vegans). But the scarier part of it was…the incident jolting me to the eventuality and randomness of mortality. It could have been our pet dog. It could have been my neighbor. It could have been someone close. It could have been me.
I didn't mean to ride the hype of the now cliche "Bucket List" when I started to write this. Oh the ever-proverbial list of things one wants to do before he kicks the bucket! Maybe it matters. Maybe it doesn't. It's your choice. It depends on how you see the world and life itself. I'm just creeped out by the turkey's misfortune.I do have a bucket list but I prefer to call it dreamlist...I wrote one before the movie came out (click to see my old list). Yes, it keeps growing. And yes, Tiger Woods is still part of it and I'm moving closer and closer to that one. Woohoo!
But I believe that everyone's list should include: 1) Forgive ALL those who wronged you, especially those who didn't really mean to; 2) Say sorry to those you've hurt; 3) Thank the people who did a lot for you (even the smallest things) throughout your life; and THIS ONE SHOULD TOP THE LIST: 4) Tell the people who mean very much to you that you love them. Now. Really.
It's 3 pm, I'm on my coffee break...(uhrm, non-coffee break). It's the second time this year that I pulled caffeine off my system before my body could protest. And now, I'm as lethargic as my neighbor's fat pitbull. I thought if I offered my abstinence from coffee (something I like so much) with my prayers, my utmost wishes will seem most legitimate and sincerely desired, and hence, answers will be expedited. I'm just praying for someone really really dear to me. Which reminds me, I listen to Catholic Radio AM1260 now on the way to work and back. A couple of days ago, they were talking about how prayers are in essence expressions of love. You pray for someone because you care. You ask others to pray for you because you trust that their prayers can help. You almost trust your lives to them. You pray to God because you resign to His designs or bargain with Him because you know He won't let you down. It portrays loving relationships and how we nurture these. Anyway, right now, I just feel like sticking my head in the freezer. Just thaw me when I can drink coffee again. I'll tell you when.
It's Friday! I adore Fridays! I'm going to my cousin's tonight for a pots and pans party or something like that.
***
Apparently I didn't finish yesterday's post. The pots and pans party was impressive. Surgical stainless steel cookware...no oil or water needed. It sounded like fun but definitely pricey. They had air and water purifier/ionizer systems too. I would definitely buy if I had 3 grand readily dispensable. I mean, we do but it's definitely not a priority right now. Anyway, the fried chicken was really great! I had a great time together with my cousins, an occasion we barely get now.
Today, we woke up late and stayed in bed til noon. It's hubby's HUG WIFEY SATURDAY. Later this afternoon, I'll be spending time at my sister's for the Pacquiao fight. Right now, hubby's picking up food from Carl's Jr. Been craving for them fried zuchinis lately hahaha. What a lazy Saturday, I'm not cooking...I'm not even doing laundry. I'm not doing anything!
Hubby and I are smelling the flowers. Til then!
So we finally meet after 5 years. She finally meets the woman who her ex-boyfriend fell head over heels in love with. I finally meet the woman who loved and cared for the man I married for more than a decade before I came (pun unintended) into his life. She finally meets the woman she referred to as the “fat b*tch” and I finally meet the woman I referred to as the “ugly b*tch” (Out of disdain, I always thought, well you can lose “fat” but what do you do with “ugly”? Plus, she wasn’t so skinny to begin with).
It wasn’t so bad. Just a bit of formalities here and there, a shaking of the hands (I offered mine first –brownie points!), uttering the automatic “nice to meet you” that goes with the handshake (did we really mean it?), partying with the rest of the crowd and maybe scrutinizing each other in stolen glances. Simple. So bitterly peaceful. It has been five years anyway. I guess we both anticipated this meeting. It is a small world after all.
At one point, we were all singing and “Dancing Queen” came up. I announced to everyone, in between sips of beer, that it is my song. No one, except for her, volunteered to sing it. And I danced to it. I know, she wasn’t doing it for me…she was just having fun singing. I wasn’t doing it for her either. Dancing Queen is my anthem, I will heed its call anytime. I am a Dancing Queen --which I know she isn’t! I must say though, even if she doesn’t sing as good as Cristina Aguilera I definitely pale in comparison. I should give it to her. (uhrm…)
Two concerned guys asked me if it was okay that she was at the party. And because I wanted to prove unfazed by the situation, I confidently said “No worries, you're asking me now when I finally proved to myself with my very own eyes that I’m really a lot more beautiful than her?” My husband always said too that I’m 100 times nicer. Better inside and out. But I kept that part to myself. Good thing. I should have kept my mouth shut to begin with. I really wanted to kick myself for not screening my words. I hate it. I just put myself down. I was embarassed with what I said even if it was supposed to be a self-appreciating joke directed to two carefree guys. I stooped too low. It was definitely a self-defense done in poor taste. Look who's ugly now???
How can I be so proud? How can I make fun of being prettier than someone else, even just as a joke, or to casually prove a petty point…when we all know too well that beauty is only skin deep. What matters is what lies beneath. What is important is who the person is inside. As the days go by since that meeting, there is a ball of guilt that keeps on swelling in my heart about having said it. She didn’t do anything bad to me anyway. And even if my husband and a lot of other people who both know us tell me I’m a lot nicer, observing her…I saw that she couldn’t possibly be too far behind. I know for sure she is a great friend to her friends. She's probably great with the kids in the facility she works for. Maybe. It takes one to know one.
I don't want to hurt people. I should take care of this inner beauty. It is what is important. It is what is worth preserving. It is what is worth being proud of.
When the party was over, she said goodbye and if smiles were worth ten seconds to a dollar, she flashed me a 10 cents worth. Good enough. Then I said “Goodbye, drive safe”. Did I mean it? YES.
I’m about as sought-after in the softball field as a tall glass of ice cold Coke on a hot summer day (doused with two tablespoons of mashed-almost-liquefied lamb pancreas, 1 1/2 shots of Parigoric and topped with a generous sprinkle of Borax and 3 pieces of Mentos--ground). I had the privilege to play with my hubby’s co-ed softball team last summer on Tuesdays when their team is short. Me, whose skill is confined to a batting average of 100% -- in hitting flying invisible balls. The only thing I can recall now is how I dragged the team to a few pathetic losses (“You’re already out, Clarisse, you can let go of the bat now…easy..easy…”), because toward the end of the season hubby started coming up with 1001 Time-to-Spare-My-Spouse-(and-me)-from-Embarassment Creatively-simulated Realistic Excuses. One time, his friend J asked, “Do you want to play with us next Tuesday, Clarisse?” and as soon as he overheard this, hubby ran toward us like a victim of an uncontrollable downhill-rolling shopping cart, thereby butting in before I could exercise my freedom of speech, “Her Carpal Tunnel has been acting up and I don’t want her hurting herself any further.” There goes my softball career.
Fast forward to a year later. Last Tuesday, I was sitting on a bleacher after hubby’s softball game when I overheard the boys talking about the upcoming co-ed league. J (as if he never learned) blurted out, “You're playing with us on co-ed tuesdays, Clarisse!” giving me that “You better do” stare. Or maybe he was just trying to vie for an Oscar – the Most Polite Script Ever Delivered to a Teammate-slash-Friend’s Wife in a sports film Award. Hubby quickly said to me in a loud and thunderous voice audible to anyone within 20,000 miles, “But you’re dancing at the Aloha Festival in SF, you’ve got other shows lined up for the summer, and your classes…your practices fall on the same day!” He even muttered vaguely about a hula competition that hawaiians probably haven't even thought of (LIAR!). I don’t know if he’s just really being proud of me, OR he is trying to pull off Excuse # 542 of the 1001 Time-to-Spare-My-Spouse-(and-me)-from-Embarassment Creatively-simulated Realistic Excuses. Because I’m pretty sure that if that one didn’t work, he will plot to make my lactose intolerance act up by putting powdered milk in my multi-vitamin pills on Tuesday mornings. Pretty soon, he will be traveling into the future, inventing excuses for sports-related proposals I haven’t even received yet.
I rest my case. I’ll be dancing my way all summer then. I’m about as sought-after in a hula show as gobs of hot white rice anyway. Plain, but edible at least.
Obviously, I am floating merrily at a lucid interval these days. Not exactly bouncing off the walls, but still oooh-ing and yeah-ing at being able to outdo myself in some demands of everyday living, that being a small issue in my daily hum as a workin’ wifey---sans little rascals to contend with at that!
So what’s up with us these days? We’re trying to put an offer for a condo/townhome! TRYING…It’s really a leap of faith for us. We’ve been waiting for Daisy for soooo long (Daisy- that foreclosed house on the next corner from where we live, which I drive by EVERY afternoon after work to make sure no one has bought her yet --apparently, the bank has yet to quote a price-- I named her Daisy the day I found myself talking to it *really* –which I still do everyday…*insane*). Well, we found this small fully-fixed-ditch-the-sweat awesome townhome in Bayfarm…let’s call her Frankie (http://www.pacunion.com/40343677). She’s got more pizzazz than old approachable and conservative Daisy. And like any well-dressed woman on Manolo Blahniks (I can’t believe I’m riding the SATC hype), she will potentially rip us off. But it might be worth it over the long haul. May the best girl win! This house-hunting is truly exhilarating but it does shove us into a state of desperation at times. I do see a light at the end of a tunnel. Do you see that flicker? Over there! Oberder!!!
I’m still having a love affair with the crockpot. And my hubby was cleanin’ scrapin’ and washin’ until his grill went a-shinin’ last weekend. He made grilled steak for supper last Sunday. We’re still gastronomic slaves and we’re liking it!
We’re quite done with long-overdue spring cleaning in “our little studio” (LOL). Quite. Mess throws my mind off-kilter most of the time that I always have to battle a strong urge to retreat to one corner of the room rocking back and forth as overwhelming disorganization abounds. Really. But we’re finally getting ahead, with a better schedule and a slower-paced social life. We’re still working on it. You see, I’m a big fan of flickers at the end of the tunnel (think positive!)…and now a big fan of humongous (and duly-labeled neurotically color-coded) plastic storage bins.
Work. It’s been slow and the economy is going nowhere but plummet south. There’s a soft buzz about shifting into more economical “4/10s” (4 ten-hr days). 3-day weekends forever and ever! Just the mere thought of it already sends me astral-traveling to the mall, the gymn, to Joey (our little bedroom studio--I like giving names now hahaha) to do my sketches and wire craft, and all the way to Hogwarts—that last unread Harry Potter book that’s probably bored-to-death-it-wants-to-set-itself-on-fire on my shelf by now, among others. Or sleeping in on Friday mornings! What joy! Maybe I can find a part-time job on Fridays too! I’m thinking too far. 4/10s will work for me if it happens. As long as everyone’s happy. Well, they gave me this huge box (it was on top of my desk I thought hubby shipped me a present or something--- nice try) of my own personalized business cards last week. I’m casting a good spell on that.
I haven’t bought a single thing for our implement dance in hula class. Not even an ii! I guess I’ll be dancing with imaginary ones again tonight and hope I don’t get penalized for it. I’m pretty good at this pretend stuff anyway *jk*. Imaginary friends like Daisy and Frankie. And dear ol’ Joey.
So I’m really back in the swing of things. I don’t know why I should even make a big deal out of this; I was not gone for eons! But I’m psychotic. LOL. Anyway, last night was hula night. I finally made it. I missed it for two weeks since I got here because the first week: I was sick (real sick) and the second week: I was lazy (a different kind of sick). My middle has gotten so thick (read: fat) that I wasn’t sure if I was fit enough to kaholo. Excuses…
So I finally dragged myself to the studio last night. I was being a little depressive anyway; I did need a dose of endorphins. It didn’t take long for me to catch up. They did a show while I was gone anyway, so I didn’t miss much…just rehearsals and not a lot of new dances. But they were already starting on the “implement” dance and the other wahines already have their implements and I don’t. I had to dance holding imaginary implements. It’s funny. I felt like a little kid whose parents forgot to send her favorite toy for Show and Tell. Well, in this area, I am my own parent now. I’ll be ordering those a little at a time. Boy, they are expensive! http://www.alohahulasupply.com
Speaking of parents, I’ve been thinking about them too much lately. I guess that’s why I have been feeling very low. I got married and moved here. The second one followed suit. And now that my youngest sister’s wedding is over, she’s moving with her hubby to his job assignment abroad as well. Reality sets in. My mom had been crying to me (one time saying “wawa mommy, wawa daddy”. My dad, well, he tries to heal his sadness by doing creative things…but I bet he’s lonely just as much. There’s no denying that it seems like we have deserted them one at a time although we never really intended to. I didn’t really intend to. Why would I? But life simply unfolded on its own, a big part of it not being a product of choice. But still, we could have changed some major choices. I could have chosen to stay back home. (But that would have meant turning my back on Aldred---how’s that???). I wish I knew that my other sisters won’t be able to stay eventually. But that’s too selfish of me for thinking they would stay. They have their own love, happiness, dreams and life to pursue. Just like me.
I’ve been mulling over this since I got back from Philippines. My parents are still strong, but not without challenges to health here and there. Eventually, they will grow older. They will need us more and more --- running the household, maintaining the house(s), going with them on medical check-ups, running errands or just being there to talk to at the end of the day, walking with them and making sure they are alright. But who will be there? In my heart, I really can’t close my eyes to their every emotional and physical need. I can’t shut the door to every knock. But I also can’t travel at every whim. Last night, Aldred brought home my favorite burrito for dinner because it was my hula night. It reminded me how simple but very happy we are. Very happy. But somehow, my happiness doesn’t sit well in the same scheme where my parents aren’t happy. I’m so torn I think I’ll go crazy sometimes. Other people seem to find it easy, perhaps they don’t have as much great family memories to keep. But I can’t judge. Perhaps, they have other reasons. Financially too, our family is quite comfortable and with a relatively good chance to survive despite a dwindling economy (hopefully) so we were not raised nor groomed to seek greener pastures elsewhere that required air or sea transport as soon as we were launched into the professional arena. Dynamics-wise, our family isn’t perfect and not without flaw like the occasional psychological games some TV soaps are made of. BUT compared to other units, ours is definitely close to ideal in the happiness spectrum. We’re so way up there, I know it. How could one walk away?
So maybe, it’s really just about squashing down other feelings in favor of some as one grows older. Still, it doesn’t sit right. I’ve been praying so hard about this. The Bible teaches that marriage is an intimate union. "For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife and the two will become one flesh" (Mark 10:7-8) . When you marry, you leave your parents and bond with your spouse. A totally new, intimate union is formed; this union between one man and one woman is meant to last a lifetime. Yesterday, a line in 90210 (yes, the Beverly Hills series!) struck me so timely. Donna’s father said “You’re old enough to stop worrying about your mother and start thinking about your own life”. Is that God responding to my incessant cries? It makes healthy sense. But I guess, in my culture, it still doesn’t fully absolve me. My mom stayed and took care of my grandmother. She was hoping one of us can follow suit. But with the direction my choices have gone, it doesn’t seem to be in the picture just yet. But who knows. I wish I can take care of them. I envy those who are blessed with this opportunity. It could be a struggle I know but it's a blessing nonetheless. No, my parents are NOT demanding from us. In fact, my parents have selflessly let us go…despite their sorrow and feelings of insecurity in their hearts about their own future. With our visits, I hope they see it more as a glass half-full, not half-empty. But then again, that’s a lame way to forcefully adjust their perspective at this point.
I have great dreams about my own family now. I can’t wait to buy our own place, and we’re getting closer and closer to that dream. I can’t wait to have babies. I can’t wait to travel more. I can’t wait to achieve other promising things with my hubby in the future. I can’t wait, yet in the same breath, I want to freeze time. I wish I can freeze time so my parents will stay young, able and strong forever. If I can keep this scenario at status quo: me being here, them being there, phone calls and some visits to suffice, that would be perfect. But not possible. Am I selfish? What am I so worried about? Am I worried about my parents or am I worried about me? About making eventual sacrifices or going through painful emotional processes here and there. Or maybe I’m worried about them going through those? Or am I just being consumed by guilt and/or succumbing to a guilt trip? Am I trying to carry too much imaginary load on my shoulders again? Maybe I should try to trust my parents more about having the ability and wisdom to transcend through this stage? Am I forgetting to let God direct my movie? Maybe all of the above? This love is so positive yet convoluted. I wish I knew the answers or at least how to numb their feelings and/or my feelings about eventual answers. All I know is, I wish I can be there for them. And I wish I can be here with my husband. I like my life here too. My independence, my freedom, the way of life. I love it. I wish I can be at two places at one time. Help me, I am not a bad child. And I’m trying to be the best wife (and mom) there is. But I’ll be there when and where I’m needed. Promise.
Lord, I'm lifting up this blog to you. Please direct my movie. But if I can request one thing for the mean time, please let it be a fantasy movie...where I wear a hula skirt that transports me to two places at one time and a tiare on my right ear that gives me the superpowers to freeze time...for a loooooong time.
Do you have reasons why you choose certain things over others? I am sometimes biased against people who MUST always have a rationale behind choosing something. I know someone who would always choose to back up to a parking space so the front of his vehicle would point outward, that way “I can drive away real quick in times of emergency”. COOL but UNCOOL. Or “eat a lot of tomatoes, it has Lycopene in it”. I find that too square for me.
I’m usually not picky. To me, I would use tomatoes on my dishes if need be. But I won’t let it rule my life. I usually would let things happen when they happen. I would use things depending on accessibility. Simple. Recently though, I’ve been going gaga over some new stuff! It might be passé for other people…but I just can’t hold it to myself when I get excited! It must be rooting from a fantasy to have my own magazine (okay, what am I up to this time???), I’ve been meaning to write about “PRODUCT PICKS OF THE MONTH” or something in that league. I thought
about that (light bulb above my head!) when I first tried the Cholula Hot Sauce. But then again, that’s considered passé since I have been pouring it over my eggs, hashbrowns, pasta, ground meat and anything you can imagine for about a year now. It started when this really nice Mexican server who always had a smile pasted on her face recommended it to me at Tilly’s Diner after I asked for Green Tabasco. I’ve been hooked ever since.
So, I am evolving (we are always evolving, I’m just a little bit on this obvious point right now). Here are some really good findings I wish to share:
1. The Joys of Crock-Pot cooking. Okay, where have I been? It’s only now that I really truly discovered the joy of slow-cooker cooking..uhrm…slow-cooking. I would 
toss all the ingredients into the pot/set it on low for about 8-9.5 hours before taking off for work, and I’d come home to the aroma of a hot and delicious home cooked meal. That gives me at least one or two more free hours after work to do other things instead of devoting it for preparing supper. Two hours are precious if you are a working wifey! What joy! I checked the energy consumption too. (OFCOURSE). I gathered, based on Typical Appliance Energy Use and Costs, a crockpot uses about 100 Watts while a large electric range uses 2400 Watts. Let’s take a closer look at the formula for average costing: Watts/1000 x hours = Kilowatt-hours (kWh) x rate = cost. Ergo, even if a crockpot operates for a longer period of time, it still comes to a smaller figure than a range would in terms of Kilowatt-hours before computing the cost. Lovely!
2. Cross-action Pro-Health Oral-B. Yeah, it sounds more like a new model of Nike running shoes than a toothbrush. I never paid close attention to what kind of 
toothbrush I use. But this one, which hubby and I picked at Target hurriedly because we misplaced our toothbrushes after our vacation to the Philippines, just about slapped me on the face, shaking me to reality with the gift of painful guilt over the realization that I have been maltreating my teeth for the past 30some years. For the first time in my whole life, I feel like wanting to keep brushing my teeth over and over simply because it leaves me feeling good each time (uh-oh…compulsion). Just kidding! But it sure suggests what it feels like to be a kid discovering the joy of toothbrushing for the first time, with a mickey mouse toothbrush in hand slathered with red-and-white-striped strawberry-flavored toothpaste. I’m not a dentist, but do check it out: http://oralb.com/us/products/manual/crossaction/. Why just brush your teeth when you can clean your whole mouth? It provides 7 oral care benefits to help you achieve a cleaner, healthier mouth. They have to pay me for this.
3. A HUGE personal water jug at work. I just got this yesterday, after a Kidney-ailment-scare at Kaiser last saturday. Apparently, I have not been “watering” myself enough lately. Looking back, I think I guzzle only…let’s see: 1 mug of morning coffee, I mug of water for lunch, half a mug of water on my afternoon break, 1 glass of 
water at dinner, half a glass of water on my bedside to tide me over during the night on dry throat moments. Bad girl. If I was a plant that depended largely on 8 glasses of water a day, I would have transformed into natural fertilizer a long time ago. So I guess this is an experimental solution to my dehydration malady and hefty water quota. I'm so relieved I don't need to stay away from salt just yet. It is a 64oz jug with water level indicators. It even has a straw and a big handle for convenience. Just remind me not to chew on the straw because it’s just washable, not disposable. It’s cute too! Anyway, check out your IWI (Ideal Water Intake) here: http://wellnessndiet.com/calculators_iwi.php.
Perhaps, I should start making a living by endorsing products. HAHAHA. Or rather, I should start putting more “purpose” into my actions.
I’m back! And I have managed to bring back a truly crippling upper respiratory condition from the plane that turns me into a mad dog at night and a barking turtle by day. I will be seriously appalled if I have not yet coughed all my brains out by the weekend. There’s still a lot of stuff to pack away, thank goodness there’s the long weekend coming. And I intend to do nothing but stay home and nurse me out of this scary health status. I know the cycle too well. First, pain while swallowing…then runny nose…then stuffed sinuses…then headache…then fever…then cough. Then cough. Then cough. Then losing my voice. Then finally bouncing back. I’m transitioning from coughing to losing my voice right now. So hopefully, I’ll be bouncing back gleefully to perfect health before I get arrested for suspected bioterrorism at work.
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I can’t wait to post photos of our vacation in the Philippines . But of course, in accordance with my family’s standards (rooting from my camera-trigger-happy daddy during our childhood days to us girls having inherited the obsession and then us marrying equally camera-trigger-happy hubbies), I need to sort through 7 Gigabytes of unedited shots. Translate: 12 days of fun=10 FULL CDs. I truly had a grand time with my folks and only wish I had more to spend with friends as well. One great thing that hatched somewhere amongst sight-seeing, shopping or eating though is a plan to come back next year. Hopefully during the Christmas holidays. No wonder hubby started buying lotto tickets yesterday. I’m getting drawn to them scratchers myself…I won $2 yesterday and 1 free ticket. Wish us luck!
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Funny. I just checked out some inactive accounts at work that I need to look closer into. 1998. Inactive. Wow. To me, 1998 doesn't seem jurassic. Not even 1988! Although some of my closest friends were just attending Kindergarten singing I'm a Little Tea Pot in 1988. 1978 perhaps. But yeah, it's 2008 now. It's been a decade since. It feels like 1998 was only like a couple of years ago! I was 25 in 1998, a fully functional adult. I'm a decade older than that now but truthfully, it doesn't seem like it. Perhaps when I'm a decade older than my favorite age (twenty-eight), maybe I should start being alarmed. Nah. It's still just a number.
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Okay, so I just lost 77.8% of my lunch break to a very informative lecture by my new boss about free radicals, three kinds of anti-oxidants, how red wine is so much better than white wine in protecting me (yeah yeah polyphenols like catechins and resveratrol) yeah yeah yeah) and some interesting sales pitches on SEANOL-F that I might want to look into. He was standing by me while I was having my lunch in my cubicle. LOL. But come to think of it...Having smart talk with a smart boss (I realized I can pick his brain and I love picking smart people's brains...) while having my peanuts and Pepsi = COOL. But anyone bothering me on my sacred lunch breaks = NOT COOL. Not exactly my idea of fun especially when I have a blog to finish.
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Did anyone see Dennis Richmond's last airtime before his retirement? 40 years at KTV-2. Wow. Any tribute and farewell stuff like that make me cry. I'm just glad that they're doing it while he's alive and strong. I hate it when people do tear-jerker audiovisual presentations when it's already too late. You know what I mean.
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Off at 3pm!!! Woohoohoo! It's this Memorial Weekend thingy. I don't know. I don't have plans. I choose to live on an hour to hour basis this week. The farthest thing planned ahead is perhaps...going to bed as soon as I get home. I don't even know what's for dinner.
Christmas Rush in April. This is what it feels like. I can give Cirque Du Soleil's Kooza juggler a run for his money. Except that I'm really not skillful at this. My pins fly everywhere, or they stay put where they have fallen. Which is pretty much all over the place. Baby plans. Baby Plans. Real estate affairs. Real estate affairs. Family and friends who need my attention -- try to throw a flare up the sky, bright lights tend to attract me. It's crazy. If there's anything pathologic about it, it is my quote/unquote attention deficit (LOL) that makes me function real effectively only in linear paradigms; the same one that exacerbates with multiple stimuli -- a noise barrage of some sort for my serenity-hungry soul which makes me want to curl up in fetal position on learned helplessness mode or simply go wacko wanting to shoot everyone with big tapioca balls from a pink fat straw (ooops, where did that come from?). I try hard (sometimes) and still suck big time.
Last weekend, we flew to LA. This weekend, we're driving to LA. The weekend after that, we're flying to PI! That leaves the weeknights for some last minute tasks (weekdays being devoted for tying loose ends at work before my vacacion grande and writing stupid blogs on breaks). I've so far played hookie at hula for two classes in a row (what!? me missing hula classes?) but it's all worth it. In exchange, I have tackled piles of laundry -- the Mt. Everest of laundry! -- getting them all ready for our trip. I've shopped here and there for things to bring, but alas, my love-hate relationship with shopping has come back haunting me from the grave (I love retail therapy but having to look around too much burns me out during activity level #86 where I start sliding to being a "list and get it quick, really quick!" person -- again, this stimuli thing). Let's see how I'll hang for the next couple of weeks. I browsed through my past posts and realized that being busy has been a recurrent but always incidental theme. When I come back, I do intend to change the song. Seriously.
Anyhoo...
Here are some good things that keep my spirits high lately, in other words, flowers to smell along the jagged path:
1.) 90210 back to back re-runs while sorting through mail, doing the bills, folding the laundry and making home-cooked suppers. Hubby and I are hooked!
2.) Wire sculpture and wire-wrapping. I'm so obsessed with it. I think one day, I can really claim to be a bonafide "artiste" (not the drama queen type). I've always wanted to be called an artist but didn't know at which art to deserve the title. (Eureka! That explains my cave days! I'm an ARTIST! I'm jumping-clapping my feet-saying heeheeheehaahaahaa-YES! My creative juices overflow at times I want to be alone and just keep creating). And the best compliment I got for some pieces I did?: "Are you in weed or something?" NO, caffeine is my drug of choice. Next to 90210. Thank you.
3.) My sister's wedding. And seeing my family. And friends!
I miss you all.
Memories are pictures of the heart. Here's another casual but special moment I need to take note of. Forgive me for the cheesiness, it's because moments like this is all I can savor for now.
Last night, I had a good casual long distance phone conversation with Daddy. As what we'd always do, we talked about my youngest brother Milo (THE DOG hehehe); we talked about what he has been busy with, the new tiles in the bathroom, his plans for the week; he asked about my new hobby -- wirecrafts/wire art sculpture which I'm so hooked in; most of all, we talked about the new piano pieces he's learning. We share a common passion for art and piano music and he's always excited to tell me about his new pursuits. His next project is called "La Vie En Rose" and he tried to hum it for me. But just like me, he can't sing. He couldn't even remember the melody at first. I searched online while we were on the phone and played the file for us. I started humming it and he was so happy that I found it. That got the melody coming back to him and he started humming it with me. Again and again. It was a pretty sight, except that I couldn't see him. I closed my eyes and tried to let every note sink in. Then we got cut off. I desperately called back, annoyed that my moment with dad was bummed out by a fluctuating voice over IP signal, actually, I was more afraid that I had lost the moment. But when he picked up, he started humming again. Like he didn't want to lose the moment with me too. When I was still living back home, he would always play the piano for me or I would try to help him tackle difficult music sheets. Last night's phone call assured me that the connection is still there despite the distance. And that we both want to keep it going. It was really nice and comforting. It was really, really special.
He always manages to take the stress out of me. He always manages to make me feel so good without having to do much. See you soon, Daddy. I'll be watching you play.
About three weeks ago, my stepdaughter flew here for a visit over the weekend. We had so much fun that on Sunday afternoon when she was about to fly back to LA, we were scurrying toward the airport check-in counter like nuts. Hubby was so stressed out. We didn’t want her to miss the flight. On the outside, I was as serene as a windless sea, on the inside, I was saying 3,008 different prayers all at once at probably an imaginary 200 decibel scream level. It was partially my fault anyway. It’s always fun to have her around. And the security check queue! How could we have forgotten that almost everyone else was flying out in the peak of spring break? Here was the scenario:
Fifteen minutes to scheduled departure The security line snaked tenfold. Hubby and stepdoe went to the line. I was left behind at the main lobby since the airport had to limit the number of adults accompanying minors to the gates due to the thickness of passenger traffic that day. They were still about fifty yards away (well, maybe a little less) from the x-ray machines where shoes, jackets, belts, keys and other gizmos need to be taken off, in a line that was inching forward perhaps only 5 yards every 5 minutes. 15 minutes until take off. You do the math. I couldn’t look at them. It was torture to see them stuck in line. I couldn’t look at my watch. It was, after all, a futile race. I just kept praying, and praying and praying that they make it to the gate…that she doesn’t miss the plane…that it wouldn’t disrupt her step dad’s schedule, that she won’t miss school yada yada yada, while trying to deflect my ensuing panic by looking at Angelina Jolie and Britney Spears on some magazine covers at the newsstand.
Five minutes AFTER scheduled departure I just got myself a cup of coffee by the baggage claim when I got a text message. It was hubby, “D FLIGHT S DELAYD. SHE WIL MAKE IT”.
It’s not a coincidence. I might sound too self-absorbed to even think that it was my faith that did it. But sorry, it really makes sense to me. God granted my wish even before I finished praying for it! The universe conspired, so it seemed, to make my wish come true-- transcending beyond the boundaries of linear time. The flight has probably long been delayed by the captain, the flight attendants, the mechanics, the air traffic control, without us knowing it. Way before we scurried like nuts to the check-in counter. But we didn't know that.
Don’t you notice? This happens to us most of the time, don’t you notice? We pray so hard for something even if as it eventually turns out, the answers have long been ready. It simply unfolds at the right time, in our human time. The wish is granted before the wish ever comes. In our world, our mind works and likes to interpret things in accordance with the laws of “time in succession”; cause before effect. To me and my strange scheme of things and in a deeper and rather philosopical reckoning, the logic or rationale behind events that happen MOST LIKELY DEFIES THIS (ergo: cause before effect OR effect before cause--it doesn't matter, backward, forward OR at random shots, anything is possible). Why do we need to pray then if things seem to have been pre-destined? No, I seriously don’t think that things are even pre-destined at all. God orchestrates this mystery of gargantuan proportions with different purposes beyond our understanding. To marry up philosophy, theology and psychology might be beyond my cerebral limits. But one thing I believe I’m getting at, in a rather simple perspective is God encourages us to experience and enjoy the different colors of life through events that happen in our lives and to paint a beautiful picture that is actually in our hands, with the aid of Divine guidance and intervention when necessary ---after all, God never leaves us alone especially in very trying endeavors. He makes us realize what we want given our own unique selves and to stand up for what we want the most and rejoice at getting them ---or even appreciate NOT getting them, even as an afterthought. He wants us to develop an appreciation of life, and in effect guides us in writing the most beautiful life stories ever told. He makes all these possible by giving us the gift of FAITH. It is faith that, to us, moves mountains and does other grand and extra-ordinary things like stop airplanes from taking off to make way for someone dear, one single person amongst hundreds. Faith is like the background music to each dance of life.
I should be thankful now then. I should consider all my prayers, wishes, my deepest yearnings granted now. It’s only a matter of time. “People-time”.
Hi there. I miss you. I miss those days at The Medical City. In our Shrink Cubes. You are one of those who listen really well...not just someone I just need to (always) listen to.
Have fun reading! And I hope you laugh. I hope you laugh...
ONE-POINT DARES
1) Run one lap around the office at top speed.
2) Ignore the first five people who say 'good morning' to you.
3) Phone someone in the office you barely know, leave your name and say, "Just called to say I can't talk right now. Bye."
4) To signal the end of a conversation, clamp your hands over your ears and grimace.
5) Leave your zipper open for one hour. If anyone points it out, say, "Sorry, I really prefer it this way."
6) Walk sideways to the photocopier.
7) While riding in an elevator, gasp dramatically every time the doors open.
TWO POINT DARES
1) Say to your boss, "I like your style" and shoot him with double-barreled fingers.
2) Babble incoherently at a fellow employee then ask, "Did you get all that, I don't want to have to repeat it."
3) Page yourself over the intercom (do not disguise your voice).
4) Kneel in front of the water cooler and drink directly from the nozzle (there must be a 'non-player' within sight).
5) Shout random numbers while someone is counting.
FIVE POINT DARES
1) At the end of a meeting, suggest that, for once, it would be nice to conclude with the singing of the national anthem (5 extra points if you actually launch into it yourself).
2) Walk into a very busy person's office and while they watch you with growing irritation, turn the light switch on/off 10 times.
3) For an hour, refer to everyone you speak to as "Bob."
4) Announce to everyone in a meeting that you "really have to go do a number two."
5) After every sentence, say 'Mon ' in a really bad Jamaican accent. As in "The report's on your desk, Mon." Keep this up for 1 hour.
6) While an office mate is out, move their chair into the elevator.
7) In a meeting or crowded situation, slap your forehead repeatedly and mutter, "Shut up, all of you just shut up!"
8) At lunchtime, get down on your knees and announce, "As God as my witness, I'll never go hungry again."
9) In a colleague's DAY PLANNER, write in the 10am slot: "See how I look in tights." (5 Extra points if it is a male, 5 more if he is your boss)
10) Carry your keyboard over to your colleague and ask, "You want to trade?"
11) Repeat the following conversation 10 times to the same person: "Do you hear that?" "What?" "Never mind, it's gone now."
12) Come to work in army fatigues and when asked why, say, "I can't talk about it."
13) Posing as a maitre d', call a colleague and tell him he's won a lunch for four at a local restaurant. Let him go.
14) Speak with an accent (French, German, Porky Pig, etc) during a very important conference call.
15) Find the vacuum and start vacuuming around your desk.
16) Hang a 2' long piece of toilet roll from the back of your pants and act genuinely surprised when someone points it out.
17) Present meeting attendees with a cup of coffee and biscuits, smashing each biscuit with your fist.
18) During the course of a meeting, slowly edge your chair towards the door.
19) Arrange toy figures on the table to represent each meeting attendee, move them according to the movements of their real-life counterparts.
Top Ten Things in my mind at this very moment:
1. The Jollibee Chickenjoy and Spaghetti dinner I just ate.
2. The Jollibee Chickenjoy and Spaghetti combo again for tomorrow's lunch at work. Yippy!
3. We finished one tahitian dance in class tonight for the upcoming ho'ike. I'm gonna miss it though since I'll be in PI! (Good thing, I'm still not coconut-bra worthy)
4. My new projects at work. These have been consuming me lately I'm tempted to work even on coffee and lunch breaks. That makes me the SQUARE ASIAN NERD. Loosen up, gurl, before your co-worker throws the stapler at you...
5. The lost files! How can I recover some of the files I lost this afternoon. I hate doing the same things all over again...
6. The grand vacation in PI this May. Two weeks...only two weeks. Bummer. Better than nothing. Pritson, here I come!
7. Anthony Bourdain on TV. FRANCE. I'll see you soon. Oysters for breakfast. Wait, did I hear that right?
8. Last weekend. Busy. This coming weekend. Busy. When will I ever be NOT BUSY???
9. Clothes for pick-up at the drycleaners tomorrow. And perhaps a lil shopping at South Shore. Hmmm. Let's see how I can pull that off. We've been kinda...uhrm, uhm...hella...broke lately.
10. Obviously I don't have much to say lately. Ergo, this list. I've had too much to do at work these past days I can't even post anything decent here. I don't even have time to trim my bangs in my cubicle anymore. Hahaha.
Til next time. When I have the time. *SIGH*
I never fully understood the concept of “sacrifice”, the whole theology of it and everything, although I practiced it without question all my life being raised as a Catholic. What I knew was that it is a way of thanking God and showing Him my love. And that at some point our chosen “sacrifice” may benefit someone in need, which is the main thrust of Christianity. Some would even add that we might get some blessings in return for our offering.
Until one sunday’s homily at St. Barnabas’ clarified it for me. I learned that above all else, the act of sacrifice “puts us in union with Christ in His suffering on the Cross.” It makes us one with Him; it nourishes and fosters our loving relationship with Him as when we do things to cultivate our other personal relationships. It is a form of “COMMUNION” – a spiritual unity with Christ, in His act of giving His life to save us.
I have learned that the Season of Lent, where we traditionally make these little sacrifices, gives us the opportunity to remember and have this special communion with Christ. It is when it’s no longer about us nor our own sufferings in this world. It is all about His suffering and death on the cross.
It speaks of this love greater than all the loves on earth put together, a love beyond understanding. What can we do to let this Great Love in?
Dingy – a person of supreme idiocy
While it’s still fresh, I might as well talk about how I almost yanked my head off coming into the house. Kidding -- no I’m not! Last week, both of my hands were full of odds and ends (grocery bags, lunch box, work purse etc) which I wanted to superwoman my way lugging them all at one time to save multiple trips to the car. My motley of keys is strung together by a blue neckband and I decided to leave it strapped around my neck while unlocking our front door. Normally, the repertoire of door-opening maneuvers concerning our front door would require steroid-aided STRENGTH (key in, twist to right, turn knob while applying pressure, push door with left shoulder—repeat if necessary; kick when desperate). That day since only my feet were free, I bent forward to insert the key and gave the door a powerful push with my foot (okay, “kick” was more like it). In an instant, the door SWUNG wide open in one very smooth sliding WOOSH! I forgot that hubby already fixed the hinges a few weeks back. And I forgot that my neck was still attached to the keys --and the doorknob. I felt like a cartoon character. The door pulled me into the house like an ultra-hospitable hostess at uber level, head first.
I’m dingy like that.
Let me tell you how last Thursday, I showed up for a Kaiser lab test appointment diligently early but in a different location. I even asked the lady at the desk, “Excuse me, where is the Gastroentorology department?” while showing her my appointment card. The lady said “oh, it’s in Hayward , it should be in your card.” You bet it was! Good thing, Union City wasn’t too far. We made it in time…hubby was driving for me (while I was driving him crazy).
I’m also dingy like that.
There are other times though, I must admit that I just like to play “dingy”. Well, not really. But being new when I just arrived in the US allowed me to enjoy that comfortable period where “not knowing or having little sometimes-funny-and-cute-sometimes-not-really-funny-at-all mistakes” is forgivable because I was wet-behind-the-ears-new at most things. But I’m a little bit over that anxious “period of adjustment and ignorance”. I realized I still like to ask questions and play innocent on some facts and issues. Like a sponge, I like to absorb information (and observe people). Plus I hate having to argue, so sometimes it’s better to play, let’s put it this way, “uninformed” hahaha *evil* and subsequently cut discussions short (or whisk me off sticky situations without a sweat). That way too, it’s easy to distinguish who among the people I mingle with are genuinely brilliant and those who are pretending to be smart-wanting-to-ALWAYS-prove-they-know-something-smart-a$$es. Most of the time, I see those who simply have a big heart trying to help a newbie out. So normally, my saying, “really is that so?” is my way of seeing who’s going to burst into a diarrhea of information that is simply a subliminal egotistic surge (this rewards me with good internal laughter) or who’s going to give me the “I-know-you-can-completely-grasp-so-this-is-gonna-be-brief” orientation on things (the real wise slice of the populace).
Maybe I’m a clever person pretending to be real dingy (that way, screw-ups ain’t obvious and penalizing).WHO DOESN'T WANT TO BE CUTE ONCE IN A WHILE??? HAHAHA OR…
Maybe I’m really one dingy life form disguised as a clever person who pretends to be dingy.
Sometimes, could be just plain apathetic.
I’m convoluted like that. We’ll never know. I don’t know? LOL.
Three things why I can’t really lose weight:
1. Monica gave me two slices of her pizza for lunch. You would think I was going to give up at least half of my chowmein lunch before I got down to pizza-eating business. No.
2. I was supposed to walk half my lunch break off today. But then, the pizza.
3. I am so lazy. Dang Moe, you served me pizza on our company’s lunchroom china. Ergo, the chore of washing it during my coffee (non-coffee) break when I could be nesting on my seat incubating fat cells. You know, pizza. Good pizza!
Three things why I’m excited about the weekend:
1. My hula performance tomorrow and I have a truckload of relatives who are watching.
2. Falafel Drive-In in San Jose! (if we have time to eat there)
3. My costume! I’m wearing a red ahuroa dress, a tiare (flower) on my right ear…they say all hula wahines are always “available” weehee, and the hula hair! (big puffy frizzy lengths – I should start setting it by braiding the corn rows tonight). And by the way, yes, the costume makes my heart jump –- I feel like a 6-year old all over again.
Three things why I can’t wait to come home today:
1. I need to check if I have enough hair rubberbands to hold my braids tonight. I can’t go to the last minute rehearsals in the morning with my braids clamped by a smorgasbord of hair implements like my head is one over-decorated whore octopus.
2. Hubby promised me a simple dinner date at Pasta Pomodoro tonight. Shall I go out with my octopus hair on? I wonder what outfit will look good with it…
3. I need to use the bathroom soon. You know, pizza.
It seems that 1 of every 5 people I bump into has the “smart a$$” blood running in his veins. What gives? They are either spewing “smart A" remarks at people or, inundating the world with “hello, duh, what were you thinking?” insults, seemingly believing that they are perfect, godly creatures out to ridicule the less perfect mortals. For instance, I overheard a not-so-pretty woman comment on a not-so-pretty woman (same boat! gee…) but with disheveled hair to a crowd of twelve, “can somebody phu-leez donate a hairbrush to her???”
I’m not like that. I may be witty in my writings but I’ll make fun of myself before I am even caught attacking people in reckless mockery. I’m not perfect. Well, who is?
HOWEVAH!!!...
Last Sunday at church, either the “smart A$$” factor has truly rubbed off on me, or the devil was at work (again?), perched on my shoulder. OR MAYBE THE CHOIR LADY WAS REALLY JUST SINGING OFF-KEY!@#$%*&@#! Alas! I finally realized why for one Sunday too many, it always felt that something was always horribly NOT going right. She has a good soprano-ish voice, yes, but most high notes fall flat. She must have a penchant for singing second voice all-throughout!!! My unquenchable rage formed into a ball that I wanted to throw at her when I saw how she would occasionally slave-drive, direct and correct the choir members. (I figured this one furtive sneer I caught from a choir member some months ago wasn’t totally unfounded).
Or maybe it’s just me. Okay, my ears are off-key. !?@#$%!&*@!
But yeah, she’s doing her best. She’s doing her best at what makes her happiest. How can I oppose that? And she’s serving God and God’s people. Plus her sweet smile oozes with unwavering dedication to the church. How can I go up against that?
I love to write and I love to dance. Though I’m not exactly the best there is, I’m over the moon when I do them.
What if someone says I simply can’t?
…it’s tax season and our business is slow…hecka slow…and so i’m so hecka bored!
...when someone like me finally crosses that thin line to boredom, that means it’s totally freaking boring!!! 2 minutes more and i’ll have my coffee break (how ironic since i gave up caffeine, yes, that includes tea and chocolate products for what seems like 20 million years ago)…so i just started writing this. writing gets me into a time warp of sorts. hopefully in the next jiffy, i’ll be strutting down the aisles of Safeway picking out stuff to cook for the whole week…oh yeah, i’m making mini baked crabmeat frittata sometime this week for brunching, snacking and boredom (duh!) purposes. hubby’s so excited because he likes to throw it on top of his rice, laced with Mexican Cholula hot sauce – fusion cuisine, babie!
…i just made a geeky discovery while i’m on this boredom thingy. i was flipping and twirling my pen between my index and middle finger, baton-style and noticed that the pen looks animated (like you see a bunch of pen images at every angle of the flip similar to several cartoon frames that didn’t transition smoothly —like it was doing a fast statue dance---what you look like under a flickering white strobe light in a club) when you twirl it in front of a computer monitor. and i noticed that it doesn’t do that when you twirl it against the fluorescent desk light…or the view of the ceiling or my co-worker's face. i tried it halfway in front and halfway off and i see the big difference. i noticed that anything you move across the computer monitor produces the same image behavior, like when you wag your hand repeatedly in front of it for instance. are you trying it right now?
…my co-worker just caught me doing it while trying a couple more disturbing stunts. i won’t be surprised if within the next few hours, dark-suited men wearing sunglasses will come marching through the glass doors of my workplace (no, wait, that’s a different movie); dragging me away to an asylum where they house people who develop startling behavioral deviations during their coffee, uh uhrm, non-coffee breaks.
The first turn I make on the way home from work gets me driving into the sunset everyday. It's always an amazing view by the bay...San Francisco skyline on my right, hills on my left, infinity up ahead, the water uniting all these and of course, the setting sun.
Today, I think I saw one of the most amazing things! It had been cold, gray and occasionally raining today. Picture this, while I was driving facing the bay toward the water (the road Ts to the left and right), the sky was so gray but there was a hole in the middle as if it just ripped open. The sun shone through that bright hole, the light piercing into some clouds splitting into five maybe seven very prominent golden rays which seemed to spill shimmeri
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